When I say memories, I’m not really talking about the “Hey, remember when we…” kind. I mean it more in a sense of that part of your brain that lets you remember how to drive and not to eat rat poison. And I as I get older, I’m learning that memories can be real assholes.

For example :
Things I can remember:
-all the lyrics to the entire Matchbox 20 catalog
-any random name that YOU might need to know
-all the words to Salt N Pepa’s Shoop (thanks Deadpool for bringing out this previously hidden talent)
-that two drinks is the perfect amount for me

Things I can’t remember:
-today’s (or any day’s) date
-any random name that I might need to know
-where my car keys are
-if I turned off that damn iron
-if I did that thing for that person
-that two drinks is the perfect amount for me (I remember this about 7 out 10 times, I consider that winning)

And a laundry list (including the actual laundry) of other things that I desperately need to remember, but just can’t.

And I won’t even get into the memories that my blossoming OCD is responsible for, because most of them aren’t even real. Apparently many of them are extremely common when dealing with OCD though, so I’m considering myself normal. (My husband may not agree with this part.)

I think I spend so much time thinking about this because of all the time I spend with my memory-like-an-elephant son and my 89-year-old grandmother with dementia and how vastly different they are.

Brody can remember anything. I mean anything. Dates, meals, birthdays, addresses, what you said that time 5 years ago…. anything. If you ask him if he remembers something and he says no, he’s lying. It just means he doesn’t want to talk about whatever it is you asked him. He’s got to have some kind of special memory, we’re just not sure what kind yet.

My grandmother, on the other hand, now has days where we’re thrilled if she knows our names. It’s sad and unfair, but on the bright side, up until a few years ago the woman had a memory like a steel trap. (I know, in some ways this makes it seem even more sad and unfair.) She could answer any question and knew everything about everyone. Hell, I think the city of Murray’s official motto might have even been “go ask Mrs. Jo” for a while.

And that is what has me worried even more about myself. I’m 36 and already have to keep daily to-do lists for myself on phone, plus an actual paper note to remind me to look at the to-do list. And I’ve been doing this for years. How did I miss out entirely on this amazing memory gene? Is my future going to have to include wearing a name tag just so I can properly introduce myself?

This is where my memory interjects with a “who are you calling an asshole? I remember lots of stuff!” And, yes, I’ll admit, it’s not all forgetfulness. My memory is aces when it comes to remembering anything I’ve said that makes me wish the earth would swallow me whole or any time I’ve even slightly disappointed anyone. These are the thoughts my memory keeps on lock down, but it simply can’t handle the task of remembering to pay the gas bill. That’s asking too much.

So, has anyone actually tried something that worked to improve their memory? Vitamins? Brain teasers? An app that helps you keep up with things? I’m open to all options. I’ve got to do something because at this point all my notes are starting to make the house look like Fred’s bedroom when they brought her back from that other dimension, just not math problems (Angel fans, that one’s for you and ooo…. tacos!)